Saint of the Slayer
by Alaskada
Summary: An assassin is never fun to deal with, working together or against, but what makes this one different to the others? The fact that he could save the world from darkness or he's still a kid? Or the fact that the Charmed One's recognise him... as their former whitelighter? Or could it be the fact that Wyatt is falling for him?
1. Prologue, Meet the Assassin

An assassin is never fun to deal with, working together or against, but what makes this one different to the others? The fact that he could save the world from darkness or he's still a kid? Or the fact that the Charmed One's recognise him... as their former whitelighter?

Saint of the Slayer.

Prologue,

They had it covered, it was meant to be so simple. A spell and a potion, and it had back fired, now it was a life or death situation and they were calling on the Elder's for help.

Great.

Not only that, but an Elder had dropped by with a teenage boy wearing a hood, who still yet had to show his face, and had said, 'He'll protect you from danger while you fix up your mess." And had left.

Fantastic.

Wyatt was keeping watch on the so-called protector, who had taken to standing near a window, and stared out of it, his body tense as he looked out for evil birds in the distance or something.

He found it ridiculous, he was meant to be the strongest magical force, and he couldn't even fight them, how would someone, who he couldn't even sense was magical, protect them.

Stupid Elders.

Sighing to break the silence, he looked up at the 'protector' who had turned to face him, and he asked a simple question, hoping to get an answer from the silent man.

"What's your name?" He didn't mean for it to come out curious, it was meant to come out gruff and frustrated, and he swore he could hear the protector snort,

Finally speaking, Wyatt was surprised that the voice was slightly deeper than expected. " I'm called many things, many people have different ideas. My family call me my real name, the demons call me Kage, I'm mainly called Sicario. Take your pick of what you wish to call me."

And Wyatt just stared dumbfounded at him, the protector had confused him to no end, and he seemed to notice.

Sighing, he looked at the twice blessed, pushing his hood back, a gesture of trust, "Just call me Sicario, it makes everything easier."  
Wyatt took in the appearance of 'Sicario,', the protector was just a kid, Wyatt decided, and he also noticed that he reminded Wyatt a lot of someone, he just couldn't pin-point it. He had frightening bright green eyes, which immediately took Wyatt's attention, the next thing he noticed was the height of the assassin, he was short, probably shorter than Wyatt's mother. Looking over the assassin, he noticed he had quite long hair, the hair a dark brown, a black hoodie and skinny black jeans draped across his body, and a long scar on 'Sicario's' face ran from his right temple to the left corner of his lip, crossing over one of the eyes.

Wyatt was straight, straighter than a ruler, but he swore he was attracted to 'Sicario' just at first sight.

Who wouldn't want a lean assassin?


	2. One, Deja Vu

An assassin is never fun to deal with, working together or against, but what makes this one different to the others? The fact that he could save the world from darkness or he's still a kid? Or the fact that the Charmed One's recognise him... as their former whitelighter?

Saint of the Slayer.

A\N: Wesdrewlover and Thalia Garwin, I would send you a message but you're not logged in, so here you are, my messages to you.

Thalia Garwin: I'm glad this has you interested, I'm on holidays for two weeks, so this should be finished rather quickly so I can rewrite it to an actual story, not a fanfiction and use it as a competition piece, and the competition is getting close to ending, a couple of months away, but when you think about having to print out so many pages and such. :P

Wesdrewlover: I'm so glad you love it, I wasn't too sure about the first chapter, was going to take it down and rewrite it, but seeing as you're happy with it, then I'll leave it up, I'll probably edit it when I'm finished the fic. :P I'll update as soon as I can.

One.

Pulling his hood back on, Sicario turned back to the window, acting oblivious to Wyatt's musings as he reached out with his magic to feel for any threats. He could sense the Charmed One's magic, and Wyatt's magic stuck out like a sore thumb, his brows furrowed when he could sense more magical forces, and he had only been told to attack anyone else who didn't have the magical force of the four Halliwells.

"Wyatt?" He started, and Wyatt finally noticed that the assassin had an accent, he couldn't pick what it was though. "Is there anyone else besides you, your mother and aunts who are here with magic?" He asked cautiously, and he tried not to pull a face at how strong his accent was coming out in his slight anxious mood, even he could hear it.

Wyatt stuttered for a second, surprised that the accent was coming out thick, compared to earlier when Wyatt hadn't even noticed it, and he could clearly tell it was Italian now, thinking, he shook his head, and the assassin sighed, before summoning his sword, a sword that Wyatt thought was similar to the Excalibur, and he asked, slightly curious. "What kind of sword is that?"

He was surprised when Sicario had informed it was a Buster Sword, something almost similar to the Excalibur, matching its power, but much more lethal and rare. Gaping at the assassin, he couldn't help but feel a little afraid.

Following the magical force, he could feel the strength in it, and despite his anxiety he smirked, feeling a rush of excitement of having a half decent fight, he hadn't had one since Bianca had been killed, one of the assassins who was close to his skill.

Walking up the stairs, where the sisters were, and the magical force was growing stronger, he moved faster, there was a chance that the sisters could be killed, and that would lead him to be killed like Bianca had been, poisoned and eventually stabbed so she could bleed out. He shivered slightly at the memory, it was all too fresh, his sister had been killed for a mistake that wasn't hers, and he couldn't afford to die either, he was one of the last ones of his siblings, he being the youngest and only male out of thirteen children, over the years, the number had deteriorated to a lamely four, and one of his siblings, the eldest; Alanna, or her assassin name, Fallace, was dying from a deadly magical disease, the witch having not much longer to live, four months at most.

Moving in to the attic, where sure enough, the sisters were standing at the book, oblivious to the demon standing in the shadowed part of the attic, and Sicario briefly noted that it was stupid not to have the whole room illuminated, leaving no shadows for anyone to hide in.

The sisters didn't even look up at Sicario's almost silent approach, the only sound in the quiet room was breathing, the turning of pages, and the soft, almost silent, clang of the key chain hitting Sicario's sword as he entered, and he knew he'd have to talk to them later about that.

Now probably wasn't a good time to mention it.

The demon was distracted, clearly focusing on the Charmed One's at work while Sicario silently moved in to the room, staying in the blind spots of the room, before Wyatt came tumbling in to the room, ruining the silence, and Sicario fought the urge to scream at the man, as the demon shimmered out, and Sicario closed his eyes against the headache that was sure to come as he summoned his sword away, the rather large and heavy object disappearing as the Charmed One's looked at both men, and Sicario sighed.

Piper opened her mouth, either to start yelling or asking questions, before a jingle was heard in Wyatt's, Paige's and Sicario's heads. A rather loud jingle that had Wyatt gasping in pain and Paige almost collapsing while Sicario pushed a hand to his temple, fighting off a headache.

A sharp burst of pain went through all three of their heads again, and Sicario immediately knew something was very wrong, and he shimmered up in to 'Up there' and materialised in a blood bath, an Elder blood bath.

There was blood everywhere, and blood splattered on to his skin. A normal person would've been sick, but he wasn't normal, far from it. A normal person wouldn't have so many different names, wouldn't kill to save his own life, wouldn't be taught to keep his head down and not attract attention. A normal person would be allowed to make mistakes.

He was so far away from being normal.

Summoning his sword, the heavy, lethal, object feeling comforting in his hand as he ventured on, his boots squelching as they stepped in a puddle of blood. Kneeling down next to one Elder who wasn't dead yet, but was harmed badly and blood was leaking out of a chest wound like a leaking tap, he sighed, settling a hand, his left still holding his sword, over the wound, using his powers to tap in to the Elder's and healing the wound. The wound didn't take long to heal, it not being fatal, but he sighed as the blood loss took much longer to heal.

Finally, he stood, watching as the Elder roused, and he continued on his task, stopping next to an Elder every once in a while.

In total, there were still seven out of many, many Elders alive, and it was a bit of a relief, feeling drained but not showing it, he accepted the Elder's thanks, and shimmered back down to Earth with a pounding headache. He sensed for the members of the house, Paige was asleep, and the others in the kitchen.

Walking in to the kitchen soundlessly as he summoned the sword away, he nodded at the members of the table, one he didn't recognise, but couldn't sense a threat in him.

fighting not to cock his head in confusion at the man, a childish habit, that his mother had beaten out of him, and he had the scars to prove it. Shaking his head at the offer of tea, he turned to the unknown man, and looked at him curiously, before the man politely introduced himself.

"Leo, Wyatt's father, and you are?" Sicario was positive the man had a clue of who he was, but greeted the man softly in return, shaking the man's offered hand.

"Sicario," His voice was a shock to the sisters and Leo, the voice had a stronger accent than who they knew, it was also slightly deeper, but it was almost the same to the man that they had lost over seventeen years ago.

Christopher Perry.


	3. Two, Agreements

An assassin is never fun to deal with, working together or against, but what makes this one different to the others? The fact that he could save the world from darkness or he's still a kid? Or the fact that the Charmed One's recognise him... as their former whitelighter?

Saint of the Slayer.

A\N: Thalia Garwin, again, If you had an account I would send you a message, so here it is. :P

Thalia Garwin: Ahaha, I'm sorry, it was starting to get late and I wanted to end it, that and I was running out ideas. I'm not too sure about the memories yet, and the relationship with evil Wyatt? That's for me to know and you to find out. I might write a chapter in Sicario's point of view later on.

Two

The Halliwell's had never really learnt much about their former whitelighter, they knew he was part witch, part whitelighter and strangely enough, half demon. They knew he had skills, amazing skills, and his 'mother' was a bitch. They knew that he had been adopted out after his family had been threatened, and that's all they knew.

Sicario felt the eyes on him, and he resisted the urge to summon his sword, he was taught to kill if people focused on you. To attack. People who focused on you were deadly, and he cursed softly under his breath. He was a bundle of nerves. He fought the nerve to fidget. Fidgeting is uncertainty, uncertainty is weak, weak is stupid. 'Never be weak when you can be powerful.' His 'mother's' words echoed through his head.

Sicario took a shaky breath, pushing his hood back and kept his head down. Showing your face was a sign of trust. Show your clients your face, they'll be less likely to try to kill you. Looking up at Piper, who had a slightly shocked look on her face. "The Elders will want to speak to you later." He said softly, and felt a little frustrated at his accent coming on thick. He hated his accent. It meant people knew where he was from.

"You're Italian." Phoebe commented, almost like she was shocked at the thought of someone coming from somewhere other than America. Sicario nodded slightly, and fought down a wince at the sudden shock of pain.

Piper seemed to noticed, despite his attempt to hide the pain, and she ushered him in to a chair and poured him a glass of cold water. And he took it gratefully. Sniffing it cautiously, he couldn't find any poisons and took a cautious sip. It didn't seem to have any poisons.

The Halliwell's seemed amused at his antics, and he fought the urge to snap at them. He was an assassin, he was targeted, people were trying to kill him on a daily basis. He couldn't make mistakes. Mistakes would get him killed. If he wanted to get back to his family, he'd have to survive for at least another year missions and training until he could leave.

Wyatt wasn't amused as the others, as he asked. "Why did you do that? We're not going to poison you."

Sicario shook his head gently. "I'm an assassin. I am targeted on a day-to-day basis. If I make mistakes, I die, you die. My trainer might also set tests for me, I am coming of age soon. They do not want me to leave. I do not want to stay. The assassin chooses when they come of age what they wish to do, to continue their training only seeing their family very rarely. There is a chance while demons are targeting you, there are my trainers trying to kill me. My family could be annihilated if I make mistakes. I cannot afford mistakes."

"You don't need to be cautious around here, Sicario. We won't let people harm you." Leo said softly, "Don't be afraid of us."

Sicario nodded, his voice soft as he spoke in Italian, "Mi dispiace. Perdonami per la mia prudenza."

Leo smiled softly, his former Elder skills making him fluent in many languages. "Non essere dispiaciuto. Hai il diritto di essere prudenti. Non ti farà del male però."

Sicario nodded once more, his voice once more soft as he spoke. "Grazie. Ma io sono ancora attenzione, la mia famiglia ... potrebbero essere male per i miei errori. Essi non meritano di morire. Cercherò di fiducia in voi, ma devi fidarti di me per primo."

Leo nodded, an agreement between the two men, and a soft smile crossed Sicario's face. And the other Halliwells could only stare.

* * *

It was early morning and Sicario was still awake as he sensed for threats. Scratching his neck where his assassin tattoo was burning, a call to return to base. He knew the burn would get worse the longer he delayed. He was meant to return, and if he was on a mission, he knew it could only be something wrong with one of his sisters. He knew he'd be losing a sister today, and though his face stayed stoic he felt a wave of anguish roll through him.

Sighing, he sat next to the window, his eyes closed as he sensed for any magical forces other than the ones he was meant to watch out for.

A sad smile crossed his face as the burning subsided instead of increasing in pain. It meant he was no longer needed back at base. One of his sisters had passed on, and he fought back the anguish, while his eyes watered before blinking tears back.

Crying was a weakness.

He couldn't be weak.

* * *

Translations:

"Mi dispiace. Perdonami per la mia prudenza" - I'm sorry, forgive me for my cautiousness.

"Non essere dispiaciuto. Hai il diritto di essere prudenti. Non ti farà del male però." - Do not be sorry, you have the right to be cautious. We will not hurt you though.

"Grazie. Ma io sono ancora attenzione, la mia famiglia ... potrebbero essere male per i miei errori. Essi non meritano di morire. Cercherò di fiducia in voi, ma devi fidarti di me per primo." - Thank you. But I'll still be cautious my family ... could be killed for my mistakes. They do not deserve to die. I will trust in you, but you have to trust in me first.


	4. Three, Kiss

Saint of the Slayer.

Short Chapter, Sorry. I wanted to get it done because of other work I have to do.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. :3

Three

He lunged forwards, his sword driving through the demon's gut as it screamed in agony, and he stepped back, the key-chain clanging against the sword and he turned towards to Wyatt, who had just finished killing the demon that was attacking him too.

A quick sense for any magical beings that might be dangerous allowed Sicario to relax. Summoning away his sword he quickly moved towards Wyatt, hovering his hand over a cut across Wyatt's head, healing it. He supposed it was strange, being a demon with Whitelighter powers. It was strange.

Wyatt nodded his thanks and pulled away from Sicario, the Italian moving to his normal spot by the window. Staring out of the window relaxed him, and he felt tense ever since he knew that one of his sisters had passed on.

Wyatt walked up to Sicario, softly turning the assassin. He had noticed that the assassin had seemed depressed. Gently, he caressed the angular face. When the assassin hadn't moved or tensed, he slowly moved his face down towards the younger male before softly kissing him.

Smiling softly when Sicario returned the kiss, he applied more pressure, pressing his tongue against the soft lips, quietly moaning when he was granted entry in to the warm cavern. His tongue fought for domination against Sicario's, making a soft noise of surprise when his tongue hit metal.

Finally breaking away in a need for air, the two softly smiled at each other.

* * *

"Sicario." Leo's voice broke the mundane atmosphere and Sicario looked up from the book held between his hands.

"Wyatt told me what happened between you two. And I wanted to say that, even though I don't believe in homosexual relationships. You two have my blessings."

Sicario nodded, a soft smile coming across his lips. "Grazie. I hope the rest of your family and my own will be just as accepting."

Leo smiled at the Italian, and replied in the same language. "Prego. Sono sicuro che la vostra famiglia rispetto la tua decisione e le ragazze faranno di tutto per mantenere i loro bambini felici."

"Spero di sì." Sicario said softly.

* * *

"So, this demon, is named spy-a-cev-oil" Phoebe said, sounding the name out, pulling a face at the book's page.

"Spiacevole" Sicario corrected softly, "It means regrettable and evil, he makes everything you've ever done into a bad memory, something you regret, eventually all your memories, good and bad turn horrible, it ends up pushing the victim to suicide. The more bad memories someone has, the quicker they die. Obviously, the Demon wants to go after you because while you've got good memories, you've got bad ones from over the years. We're all targets, some of us more than others, which means all of us need to watch out for each other. The demon also makes the victim relive their bad memories, so It'd probably be a good idea for you to write down your worst memories so we know what we're dealing with."

The Halliwell's were shocked, the most they had heard the assassin talk was to Leo when they were speaking Italian, which was obviously Sicario's favourite language.

"It would also be a good idea to activate a crystal cage around the house, only letting your family in and out, you are most vulnerable here."

"I'll go set up the cage." Leo informed them, grabbing the crystals off of the table and walking out of the room.

"I also would advise to be armed with potions at all times." Seeing Wyatt was about to protest, Sicario shook his head. "I don't care that you have Excalibur. I have the Buster Sword and I still have potions on me at all times. Our powers can be blocked, leaving us weapon less." Turning to the girls, "I want you two," Pointing to Piper and Phoebe, "Near someone who can teleport at all times. Even if it means you can't go to work." Again cutting in before anyone could protest. "This demon is deadly, and there is no fifth sister if the Charmed One's fail, and Wyatt was supposed to have a sibling to make the next Charmed One's, and as far as I can tell, he doesn't."

Piper fell quiet at that. It had been sixteen and a half years ago, their baby Christian, who they had named after Christopher Perry Halliwell, had been kidnapped at eight months old, though the Halliwells had ripped the Underworld apart and put in several missing person cases, they had never seen the boy again. He was a weird child, he had part witch, part whitelighter and part demon in him. The Elder's still couldn't explain how that'd happened.

Noticing Piper's subdued mood, Sicario softly apologised before walking back to the window he was so fond of.


	5. Four, The Stars in the Sky

Saint of the Slayer.

** A\N: Made this chapter a bit longer to apologise for the short chapter for last chapter. Also, implied mention of male sex. Also, if anyone has any ideas for my next few chapters, let me know. I'm seriously contemplating m-preg. Let me know what you think.**

**Four.**

It was late at night, and yet Sicario stood staring out the window, and Wyatt sat on the lounge, watching the crappy shows that was called night-time T.V. Sicario shook his head at the old re-runs of Friends that Wyatt had taken to watching.

English T.V shows were slightly difficult for him to watch, English was his second language, and he didn't usually have problems translating, but he lapsed back in to Italian every so often, as did his train of thought, and the show didn't make sense to him anymore.

"Hey Sicario?" Wyatt asked, glancing at the assassin leaning against the window. Once the younger man had looked at him, he spoke again. "Could you possibly teach me so Italian?"

Sicario smirked, "Sì," Pausing, he asked, "What would you want to learn?"

"I don't know, maybe one of your favourite quotes?"

Thinking, Sicario raised an eyebrow, before speaking Italian, not a single stutter even though he had spoken English for the most part of three years since he hadn't seen his parents.

"Siate coraggiosi, seguire i sogni, dire vaffanculo a tutti e combattere per quello che crediamo"

"What does it mean?" Wyatt asked.

"It means 'Be brave, follow dreams, say fuck you to everybody and fight for what you believe in.'" Sicario said quietly. He hated admitting that it was his favourite quote. He was raised to be eloquent, to not swear, at least not in public and in front of people.

Wyatt grinned, "I like that quote, teach me to say it." Wyatt demanded,

And the rest of the night was spent teaching Wyatt how to say things in Italian.

* * *

Sicario ran a hand through his hair as he read the list of the major bad memories that had happened to the Charmed One's and their family. He also snorted at their list of bad memories, all the same, the sister's had lost their family and some of their friends, all of them had lost innocents, and then there were the scary times that they had almost lost each other.

He felt bitter, he had more bad memories than all of them combined, some of them worse than the ones they had on there. One of the sisters had written down 'being fired.' Sicario would've given a million dollars to say that he had been fired, could find a new job, had all appendages and was still alive. The Charmed One's thought they had such bad memories, he had worse, his first kill, his sisters dying, Bianca's death, attacks on the academy, his friends being killed in front of him, hell, he had been kidnapped time after time and taken advantage of several times and he thought he had a pretty good life considering, these girls were acting like it was the end of the world.

Shaking his head, he forced away his feelings, he couldn't let them get in the way, that could, would, get him killed, and that would be no doubt the end of the Halliwells. He could tell Phoebe and Paige were getting anxious to see their kids and husband, but in risk of the demon targeting them, they had to stay away.

He envied them. He had never met his real parents, only his adoptive ones, and his assassin guild master named 'mother.' He found it unfair that they got to whine about not seeing their family, whine about their bad memories or getting fired from work for not going, he was tired of their complaining and he was tired of the headache pounding behind his temples.

He and Wyatt hadn't really talked since the kiss and the night Sicario taught him to speak a bit of Italian, and he was starting to feel that the kiss had meant nothing to Wyatt whereas it sparked an emotion in him, and emotion he couldn't place, and he was getting agitated, he had been in the same enclosed space for too long, around too many people for too long, He wanted to relax, and yet he hadn't been able ever since he had been forced in to the academy.

Softly swearing-in Italian, he turned away, walking in to Wyatt, and he softly excused himself, before turning to move away from the blonde haired, blue-eyed man, before his arm was caught in a soft grip, and he looked up in to the eyes of his 'captor.'

"Sicario..." Wyatt started, "I don't know what that kiss meant to you, but it meant a hell of a lot to me, just... tell me so I know what's going on here, because I really don't. You've barley spoken to me."

Admitting his feelings was new to Sicario, almost wrong, a violation. He fought past that feeling as he softly spoke. "It meant a lot to me Wyatt, I..." Hesitating, Sicario almost whispered the next word. "It meant a lot to me, a lot more than anything has for a while."

Sicario had barely finished when Wyatt brought him in to another kiss.

It was nothing like the first one, their noses bumped against each other and their teeth clashed painfully, but Sicario thought it was worth it. He had never felt that way, not really. He hadn't felt anything close to that since Bianca, hadn't felt truly felt it with Bianca.

He felt happy.

For once, and maybe, it could stay that way.

-

"I've found a way to vanquish the demon." Sicario said softly to the sisters as he walked in to the room with the grace of a cat. "Funny enough, it's just a simple potion and spell, all you need is someone to weaken the demon, which Wyatt and I can do, before saying a Power of Three spell. The recipe to the potion is here." He put down a piece of paper on the table, the writing elegant, that held the spell and the potion.

"When that's done, we can leave." With that, Sicario went to walk out.

"Sicario." Piper's soft voice stopped him, and Sicario turned to her, his eyes soft. "We just wanted to say thank you for helping us out."

He nodded, "It's my pleasure." His voice was softer than usual, and waiting for a second when no-one said anything else, he walked out.

-

It was later while the potion was brewing, Wyatt and Sicario crossed paths again. Sicario walking outside as Wyatt was walking in. Holding the door open for Sicario in a gentle-manly gesture, he followed the assassin out, appreciating the view that he had already seen.

Sicario had walked out on the to the slightly damp grass and sat down, leaning back on his arms as he looked up at the sky. The sky looked beautiful, the stars clearly visible and the half crescent moon standing out.

Softly speaking as Wyatt sat next to him. "I used to sit on top of the academy's roof with my best friend, the view was beautiful over in Italy."

Wyatt nodded as he subtly moved closer to Sicario.

"Wyatt." Sicario said softly, continuing when Wyatt grunted softly. "You deserve to know some more about me..." Hesitating before he continued. "My real name is Chris. Sicario is my assassin name. A name to keep my identity safe." He whispered softly as he looked at the blonde.

The said blonde didn't look mad. In fact, he smiled. "Thank you for trusting me enough to keep your identity safe then."

Chris nodded softly, appreciating the view and the closeness with Wyatt.

The man in question slid his arm under the slender waist and brought the assassin closer to him, looking in to the bright green eyes. With his other arm, he gently pulled Chris's chin closer to his, before gently kissing him.

Chris's lips were soft against Wyatt's as he deepened the Chris, allowing Wyatt's tongue to enter his mouth, and he softly moaned against the pressure. The deep kiss was making the blood from Wyatt's head rush downstairs as he pressed against Chris.

Chris wasn't a guy to sleep with someone on the first date, hell, he hadn't even been on a date with Wyatt yet, but he really thought he could make an exception.

Wyatt pulled away from Chris with a grin, obviously thinking the same as he softly asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Chris hesitated before nodding, giving Wyatt his own little smile.


	6. Five, Confessions

An assassin is never fun to deal with, working together or against, but what makes this one different to the others? The fact that he could save the world from darkness or he's still a kid? Or the fact that the Charmed One's recognise him... as their former whitelighter?

* * *

A\N: So, I've been asked if I'll do a slash scene, and I've decided if I get enough wants for it I'll upload it on another account. Also, Had my laptop redone, so It's a lot faster so it means I'll be able to update faster. Hopefully. And I plan to have this fanfiction around 12-16 chapter. What do you guys reckon?

A\N: Did anyone want to co-write this story with me, or maybe even adopt it?

A\N: Has anyone read 'The Casual Vacancy?' I don't know that I like it too much.

* * *

Saint of the Slayer.

Five

* * *

Sicario sighed contently against Wyatt's bare chest, the assassin at a lot more ease than he had been in the Halliwell manor.

He smiled softly as Wyatt brought him closer to the broad body, for once not afraid of being touched, but craving it. Checking the digital clock over Wyatt's shoulder told him it was four-thirty-nine in the morning.

Closing his eyes, He relished the warm, not used to the bitter winters that America had, compared to where he lived, where it was more often warm than not.

He was overwhelmed by memories of his parents, the two were complete opposites of each other. His father was a half demon, and a lawyer, a smart man who Chris looked up to, his idol. It sounded sad. Lame, but his father was his best friend.

His mother was an amazing women, long black hair that was usually swept back in to a neat ponytail, she was determined and kind, a former witch and a current whitelighter.

They were his adopted parents, but to him, it didn't matter, his former family had left him alone, let him get kidnapped, and, many years later, still hadn't found him, probably hadn't even tried.

Hs real name was Christian, he remembered that much, but he had never been much for religion, neither of his parent's had either, and had decided as a group to change it to Christopher. The name had a ring to it, sounded better. It sounded like it had always meant to be Christopher over Christian, and honestly, he hated the name Christian.

It was a name from a family who didn't love him, it was bad enough having the middle names from his other family, the names Victor-Perry meaning nothing to him, to him, they were just another name, names that he didn't like. Didn't want.

Stretching out, he slowly let the sleep take over his body.

-

Sicario awoke to his name being called, and he shot up in bed, waking Wyatt in the process.

He heard his name called again, and he recognised his mother's voice, and untangled himself from the sheets.

"'Cario?" Wyatt asked drowsily as the assassin climbed

"Go back to sleep Wyatt," He said softly as he snapped his fingers, instantly dressed in tight black cargo pants and a taut grey shirt.

"Where are you going?" Wyatt mumbled as he rolled over to face the dressed man, blinking sleep away blearily.

"My mother is calling. I'll be back later, I swear." His voice was still soft as he shimmered out, and Wyatt, 'Hmphed' before rolling on his back and going back to sleep.

-

Sicario shimmered in to the living room of his parent's house, the room spacious with a lot of sunlight, it was always his favourite place when he was younger.

He softly greeted his parents. "Mum. Dad."

Prue gave a watery smile, not looking a day older than she had died. Her hair was swept in to the neat black pony tail like always and she was dressed slightly formal, a dress over stockings, and he frowned, they only wore casual clothes on special occasions.

Turning to his father, the man standing tall and proud, he grinned softly as both his parents brought him in to a hug, his father whispering in to his ear, in the way that was So Cole Turner that it could be copy write for others to use, that he was glad to see him alive, like he did after every mission.

His father too, was dressed formally, nothing unusual for the man being a lawyer, but it had him suspicious.

"What's going on?" He asked, afraid of the answer, and he had a right to be.

"Chris, you deserve to know about your real parents, we haven't told you much about them, but you'll soon be of age and we've decided that you should be able to know them for your celebration of turning into an adult and a fully qualified and trained assassin." Cole said.

The lawyer was honestly scared, He knew his son was going to be furious, and maybe even hate them both, and\or maybe want to leave their family for his original, and he inwardly sighed.

"Chris, we told you that you were kidnapped by demons and we rescued you right?" Prue asked softly as she fought back tears, she choked back a sob at his confirming nod.

"Your name is Christian Perry Halliwell, we were the ones to kidnap you, to protect you from someone called Lucifer."

Chris nearly snorted, the name not registering with him. "Lucifer? As the Devil?" His parents nodded and Cole continued.

"Lucifer is an angel, an evil angel after assassins, one's that could be turned in to angels. He was trying to make an army called Hell's Assassin's. The goal was to make them more evil than anything else in the world, to end all human life and allow demon's to run free, you were the first on that list."

Prue hesitated. "You're actually my nephew, you're my younger sister's youngest son, Piper. You've met all three of them, I'm sure. Your father is also the Ex-Whitelighter, Leo. Your demon powers are still yet not described, but we've narrowed it down to power mimicking."

Chris was horrified. This news was one thing, another thing was that he had slept with his brother last night. Furious(-ness?) kicked in, and his eyes blazed, the colour darkening to a greenish-grey colour, and both parents gulped.

"You fucking lied to me." His voice was quiet, deathly calm, and it made both Cole and Prue want to run for the exits. "I've just spent nearly two weeks with them, to find out that they're my family."

His voice turned bitter, "You thought you were helping. But you didn't. The darkness has always been in my blood. Always knew that I had darkness in me. I fought it, and now, to find out that you've lied to me for my whole life?" He scoffed, "I don't want to fight it anymore. This." He gestured at himself and his 'parents' "was something I thought was a family. Turns out it's just a lie." He took a breath before quietly saying. "I always thought, that you would never lie to me about something big. Turns out I was wrong again." And with that, he looked both parents in the eyes, his own close to a black colour.

Closing the said eyes, he shimmered out, and Prue fell to her knees, choking on sobs.

* * *

Short chapter, and a cliff hanger.

Also, two things, I think you can see I've been watching a bit too much supernatural.

And I'm wondering if I should make a Facebook account and post all my updates, news and etc. on there.


End file.
